Jake's Burn

by Randy Rawls

  I added the names of people I’d met in the Down Home. As I ran Terri Hart’s name, I hoped it would come up clean, and it did. But her brother’s record was an eye-popper. It looked like he’d committed about every misdemeanor there is, and a couple of minor felonies. His worst arrests were for beating on his girlfriends, something he apparently did frequently. The judge gave him two years probation the last time, and a court order to stay away from the woman in question. That was a year ago.

  I made a few phone calls to snitches I knew but to no avail. Cisco was too far off their home track.

  My last call was to Ms. Jacobs, a cat-loving lady who lived down the street. I explained I had to go out of town and asked her to check on the boys if I wasn’t back in three or four days. She assured me it would be a pleasure to spend time with two such delightful animals. I wondered whose cats she was talking about.

  I reminded her of Striker’s proclivity for hiding. She laughed as she told me she had her ways of flushing him out—her special kitty-treats. I’d forgotten about those. The boys loved them.

  I called the boys for a family meeting. What I mean is I filled their food dishes, gave them fresh water, and rattled the hard food box. I only know two ways to get their attention immediately. The first is what I did. The second is to sit down in my recliner and open the newspaper. The latter is more effective. As soon as I start to read, one or both of them scampers onto the paper and settles down for a long winter’s nap.

  “Boys, I’m heading out again. Not sure how long I’ll be gone, but I’ll leave you plenty of food and water. Ms. Jacobs will check with you. Be good to her, she’s the one with the great kitty-treats. Oh yeah, try to take it easy on the litter pans, will you?”

  Their response was the cracking of their hard food and the smacking of their lips. Sometimes I wonder who’s the master and who’re the pets in my house.

  “You guys watch the place. There’s somebody who doesn't like me, if you can believe it. If he comes around, chase him off.”

  Crack, crack, smack, smack.

  I went into the bedroom to pack. When I unzipped my bag, both boys came running. As soon as I folded back the flap, they jumped in and started wrestling. I lifted them out and turned to my sock drawer. When I turned back, they were in the bag again. We went through the drill several times before I was packed. When I lifted them out the last time and zipped the flap, they both gave me indignant looks before they stomped from the room. Somehow, I didn’t think their indignation had anything to do with my leaving, only that I was taking a favorite playground.

  The new car was a beauty. I appreciated Jake’s consideration, but I’d never let him know. He enjoyed gloating too much. Nothing like the smell of a new car to bring out your manliness though.

  I pulled out of the driveway, drove down Frankfurt to I-35E and headed south to Loop 12. I felt good. It was only seven, and I was sure I could be in Cisco by nine-thirty or ten. Disaster struck like it does every morning. There was a fender-bender somewhere in front of me, and traffic backed up. I made Cisco at eleven.

  I swung by the firehouse, hoping to catch the fire chief, Sam Raleigh. Al, the EMT, was there again and told me Sam wouldn’t be back until six. He had graveyard this week, six p.m. to six a.m. I asked Al if they had anything new on the arson.

  “You best talk to Sam ’bout that. He’s still not too fired up about you.”

  “Yeah, I got that impression.”

  Al’s face said I wasn’t number one on his Christmas Card list either.

  I had time to kill so I turned on the charm. “Look, Al, I wish you guys would cut me some slack. All I want is to find out who torched the house, collect my fee and get the hell back to Dallas. I’m a city-boy now, and want to get out of here as soon as I can.”

  Al didn’t say anything, but the frown disappeared.

  “I know Sam will be happy when I’m gone. The quickest way to get me out of here is share with me. You must know who the bodies were.”

  Al fidgeted, and I knew I’d scored. “Com’on, Al. We’re on the same team.”

  “Well, Sam didn’t say I couldn’t tell you. It might be all right.”

  “Of course it is. Hell, it’s public information. I’ll bet the paper will have it in the next edition, and you know the Fort Worth paper’s going to jump all over it.”

  “Okay, but you gotta help me if Sam gets mad.”

  “You got it, buddy.”

  “They’re pretty sure one of them was Sheila, just like we guessed, but you’ll never guess the other one.”

  My impulse was to tell him I don’t do guessing games but instead, I said, “You’re way ahead of me. I don’t have a clue. What’s his name?”

  Al reached into his desk drawer and took out a small notebook. “That’s a her, as in her name—they think it was a woman. They got the ID from the serial number of that burned out hulk behind the house. It belonged to Madeline Millener. She’s a hotshot lawyer from Fort Worth.”

  I pictured the car remains we’d seen. One parked out front, one where I supposed the garage was and one setting on the melted driveway behind the house. Apparently, Sheila’s guest had driven to the house and parked in the rear. Did it signal a familiarity, or that the visitor was not allowed to use the front?

  Millener? It rang a bell. I’d heard it before, but where? “That’s interesting. Got anything else?”

  “Nope, that’s it. You saw the reason. The coroner and the state boys are still working the remains.”

  “Thanks, Al. You’ve been helpful.” I left the station, deciding not to push my luck.

  Once I was in my car, I searched my brain for the tidbit of information I knew about Millener. It wouldn’t come. I’ve learned my best bet is to leave things alone until right brain decides to help.

  Instead, I wondered what to do until I could talk to Sam Raleigh. I considered finding Bubba but didn’t have a clue where to look. Finally, I decided to do something I hadn’t done enough recently—visit my parents. I purchased a bouquet for Mom.

  I’m no connoisseur of cemeteries—prefer to stay out of them—but Oakwood Cemetery in Cisco is one of the best—dignified without being solemn, quaint without being weird, and most important of all, the resting-place of my parents.

  I parked on Second Street. The old high school gym and the football field where I practiced and played was on the other side of the street—home of the Cisco Lobos.

  Memories flooded back as I walked through the gate. The cemetery is laid out in rectangles with streets named after trees, flowers, and other types of vegetation. I moved toward the intersection of Rose and Gardenia. In front of me, keeping a wary eye on me and moving away if I got too close, were six black goats. Apparently, they were the groundskeepers. They appeared to do an excellent job.

  Names on the headstones went back to when Cisco was Red Gap, before the railroads came to Texas. That was the real beginning of Cisco. I remembered having it drummed into my head in fourth-grade history class. The Texas and Pacific Railroad arrived first in 1880 but the Houston and Texas Central later crossed its right-of-way. The settlement of Red Gap was about a mile from the crossing point. Everyone picked up and moved, bringing Red Gap with them. In 1884, the town of Cisco was officially recognized and a new post office granted. Then as now, money drove events. The town was named for John A. Cisco, a New York financier connected to the Houston and Texas Central Railroad.

  I found my parents’ graves in the Edwards family plot, side by side, as they’d wished. I admit I was misty-eyed standing there remembering all the good about them. I guess some might say they were simple country folk who raised one son while losing two daughters at young ages. I know better. I know they were two loving parents who gave their stubborn son everything they could while insisting he learn and accept responsibility for himself. Most of all, they gave the most precious gifts one can receive, love and trust.

  I placed the flowers on Mom’s grave and, as I stood between their final resting-places, told them ab
out the case. I told them about Jake calling me, about Sheila and Bubba, and Sonny killed in my car. I told them I suspected Sonny was an accidental victim, the bullets intended for me. I confessed I hid under an oak tree while the bullets flew and Sonny died. I didn’t mention it was the same tree Bubba and Sheila used for carnal purposes. I didn’t think Mom would appreciate the story. Dad might have gotten a chuckle out of it, but I couldn’t tell him without Mom hearing.

  As I stood there talking to my dead parents, right brain kicked in and gave me my first insight into the case. I excused myself. “Sorry, but I have to talk to Sam Raleigh.”

  NINE

  I rushed to the fire station.

  Al was in the office. “Told you Sam won’t be here ’til six. Whatcha doing back early? I’m not gonna tell you anything else.”

  “Look, I know it’s only two, but I need to talk to Sam now. Where does he live? I’ll go by his house.”

  At first, I was afraid I’d offered Al too tough a dilemma. He stared at me for a moment, then scratched at the top of the desk. As I watched him sort through the alternatives, I wondered if he and Bubba were related. He wasn’t as big as Bubba and didn’t look like him, but they acted like mental cousins.

  After what seemed an eternity, but was only about a minute, he said, “Okay, I’ll give you his address. But you better not do nothing that’ll get me in trouble.” He wrote Sam’s address on a yellow sticky and handed it to me.

  I headed out of the station fast and was almost to the car when I heard a horn blowing. I looked around to see Bubba pull into a parking space.

  “Heard you was back in town. Why’n hell didn’t you check in with me?”

  I stared at him, wondering if he’d said what my ears heard. I walked over to his Suburban and stopped by the driver’s side. “What did you say? I’ve been having trouble with my hearing recently.”

  “I said, why’n hell—”

  That was as far as he got. I reached through the open window, and grabbed his left ear, twisting as hard as I could.

  “Yow,” he yelled. “What the hell’re you doing?” He tried to open the door but I slammed it shut and twisted more.

  “Turn me loose right now, you som’bitch, or I’ll kill your sorry ass.” He yelled louder now, and I heard laughter. Risking a quick glance, I saw that the firemen had come out of the station.

  “I’ll turn you loose as soon as we get a few things straight.” Actually, I wondered how I could end this without losing my head. “I don’t check in with you or anybody. I do my own thing, and you do yours. Do you understand what I’m saying?” I twisted again.

  “Yeah, I unnerstan’. Now, you best turn me loose so we can talk.”

  I released him and stepped back. He put his hand over his ear. “Ace, that was slick. I always admire a man who keeps a trick up his sleeve. You’re right, I shouldn’t have expected you to check in. Just ’cause I’m payin’ you don’t mean you gotta report to me all the time.”

  “I’m glad we got that straight.” I let out a relieved sigh as he stepped to the ground. Behind me, I could hear the firemen whispering and snickering. I stuck out my hand to shake. “Now that we understand one another, we can be friends again.”

  Bubba looked at me, still holding his left hand over his ear. He reached toward me with his right, and when I looked toward his hand, he hit me with a wicked left cross. I spun backwards into the crowd of firemen. Somebody caught me, held me up, and gave me a gentle shove toward Bubba.

  My eyes glazed and my jaw hurt like hell. I spit blood and hoped none of my teeth went with it. I rubbed the hurt, then looked and saw Bubba coming at me. I managed to say, “Pretty good shot, Bubba, but you’d better quit while you’re ahead.”

  He laughed and kept coming, stomping straight at me like a vengeful bear. When he was almost within swinging distance, I saw him winding up with a right that would send me to Christmas if it connected. Time to play offense. I kicked him below his right kneecap. He grunted and took another step so I kicked him below the left one. He folded toward the ground, but to ensure he didn’t straighten back up, I kicked him in the groin. He collapsed like a giant oak tree in a hurricane.

  “Now, like I said, Bubba, I don’t check in with anybody and I sure ain’t checking in with you. As of right now, you’re fired.” I turned to walk off then spun back at him. “I’ll send you a bill for two days work—that’s four hundred bucks you owe me.”

  I was close to my car when I heard him wheezing my name. I looked back where he was regaining his feet. “Don’t leave. We needa talk. Let me catch my breath.”

  I figured the worst he could do was tear me limb from limb. I waited.

  “You’re one tough little bastard, and sneaky as hell,” he wheezed. “I never been suckered like that before.” He walked toward me, bent at the waist.

  “What do you want? I got leads to follow. I don’t have time to stand around passing the time of day with you.” I was on a roll and decided to keep it going. But, to play it safe, I had the car door open between Bubba and me. It partially protected me so I could make a quick getaway.

  “Okay, Ace, okay.” He held his hands up in the universal sign of truce. “I’m sorry. I was out of line. I just wanted to ask you about Sonny, and let you know the funeral’s tomorrow. Sorry about your car. Looks like you got another one, though.”

  “Yeah, but enough small talk. You got something, spit it out. Otherwise, we can talk some other time.” I started getting into the car, thinking it’d be best if I left before he recovered.

  “You go ahead. I’ll be at the Down Home tonight. Stop in and I’ll buy you a beer while we talk—if you want to talk.” He was a lot more humble than when he arrived.

  I pulled out of the parking lot, half expecting Bubba to follow. He watched me drive away.

  I drove straight to Sam Raleigh’s, violating the speed limit as I went. The knot in my chest told me it was important I talk to him. I knocked on his door and an attractive woman in her early twenties opened it, holding a baby in her arms.

  “Excuse me, I’m sorry to bother you. I’m Ace Edwards. Is Sam here? I’d like to talk to him.”

  She said over her shoulder, “Honey, some guy named Edwards here to see you.” She walked away, leaving me on the wrong side of the door.

  I stood there for a couple of minutes. About the time I decided to knock again, Sam appeared. “Damn, I hoped it was somebody named Tom Edwards or Bob Edwards. I don’t know anybody by those names, but it’d be better than seeing you at my door. What the hell do you want that can’t wait until I’m on duty?”

  “Look, Sam, I’m sorry to bother you but we need to talk. I’ve got questions that need answers, and I’m sure you can supply some of them.”

  He stared a moment, then called over his shoulder, “Honey, I’ll be on the porch if you need me. Don’t hesitate to interrupt.”

  He opened the door, came out, and pointed to a padded rocker. “Have a seat. Let’s get this over with. Remember though, I may not answer any of your questions.”

  “I understand. I wish you’d accept that I’m not trying to upstage you.” I sat in the chair he’d indicated. “I only want to know why Sheila and Sonny were killed. Fairly basic stuff.”

  Sam sat in a chair identical to mine, then leaned toward me. “All right. Ask your questions.”

  “What time did the fire start?”

  “As best we can figure, it was about one o’clock in the morning.”

  “What rooms were the bodies in?”

  “Hell, you know that. You were there. One was where the study used to be.”

  “On the first floor, right?”

  “Now where in hell do you think it would be? Of course, the study was on the first floor.”

  I hesitated a moment, not sure where I was going with my next question but knowing I had to ask it. “Where was the other body found?”

  “Damn, Edwards. What are you driving at? You were there.”

  “Please be patient with me.�
� I shifted forward in the chair. “I have a very cloudy picture I’m trying to clear up.” I gave him my best Perry Mason look. “Where was the second body?”

  “In the hallway on the first floor, or what had been the hallway. Does that answer your question?”

  “Not quite. Do you think she died there? What I mean is, could she have been on the second or third floor?”

  I waited, gently rocking the chair. I might have held my breath. Somehow, I knew the answer to that question was important to the case. Only thing was, I didn’t know why.

  Meanwhile, Sam looked at me so strangely I was afraid I’d grown a second head, or a third eye had popped out of my forehead. “What are you getting at, Edwards? If I knew where you were headed, maybe I could help you.”

  “Answer my question,” I said, “then I’ll lay out my ideas for you.”

  “I’m trying to picture something that could prove the second body was on the first floor but I’m not getting anything. In fact, now that you raise it, I can’t be sure either body started out on the first floor, although I feel pretty confident about the one in the study. Do you know something?”

  At least he’d quit snarling at me. I plunged on. “Do you have plans for the house? I have this cockeyed idea that the second body lay in about the middle of the house where the stairs were. I know it’s stupid because I was never in that house, but I get an image of stairs where we saw her body. Jake showed me the construction plans and I swear, the curved staircase went up right where her body lay.”

  Sam leaned back and rocked for a moment. “You’re either the nuttiest cop I’ve ever known or you’re psychic. We’ll find out which. I have a copy of the house plans and our reports at the office. We can check’m. Now, you’ve used up all your time. I have a wife and baby I don’t spend enough time with. I’m gonna feed my baby before I go to work. If you have any more questions, I’ll be at the station at six.” He got up and walked into the house, leaving me staring at where he’d sat.